


MY VERSION of Book 7

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-10
Updated: 2006-07-10
Packaged: 2019-01-19 17:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12414291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: This is my account of what Book 7 will be like.  It's trying to be realistic about what MAY happen in J.K.'s version - but she's taking too long.





	MY VERSION of Book 7

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

It was a beautiful day outside Number 4 Privet Drive. The atmosphere was not pleasant inside, however, for the residents of Number 4 were currently playing host to what they viewed as abnormal freaks. The Dursleys were anxious the neighbors might notice the two extra teenagers they were forced to board for at least 2 weeks were, well, _abnormal._

Harry Potter, who was a little more than a month away from being 17, glared at his Uncle Vernon, who was sitting on his favorite chair, glaring at his houseguests. Harry's friends Ron Weasly and Hermione Granger had done a fine job blending into 'normal' society. Muggles, non-magic beings, normally don't dress in capes and wizard robes like Harry, Ron, and Hermione did - they were wizards.

"I hope I don't have to keep feeding you lot for another week." Uncle Vernon grumbled, "your Aunt Petunia is beside herself trying to keep _you two,"_ he nodded in the direction of Ron and Hermione, "from being noticed."

"Hang on," interjected Ron, whose face had gone as red as his hair, "we've been blending in! We've not even left the house all week!"

"Mr. Dursley," Hermione interjected politely, "we realize this is difficult. Perhaps I could conjure up some extra food..."

"NO MAGIC ALLOWED IN THIS HOUSE!!!" Vernon roared so loudly, drops of spittle sprinkled his lap.

"Quiet Vernon!" Aunt Petunia appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. "You know how close together these houses are! What on earth would the neighbors say?"

"Right, right," chuckled Uncle Vernon, "the neighbors." He slumped resignedly back in his chair and began to pretend to read his paper.

"Look, Harry," Aunt Petunia sounded reproachful, "I never liked my sister much, but I made a promise that youcould live here until your 17th birthday; but I will not tolerate _magic_ ," she hissed, "in _my_ home."

Harry, who was about to point out that he couldn't _do_ magic, even if he wanted to, without risking another trial at the Ministry of Magic, was cut off by his cousin Dudley's arrival. Poor, heavyset Dudley was lumbering down the stairs, trying to get by unnoticed, but his immense size meant immense weight, and lots of thudding around.

"Ooh, Diddykins! I've made something special for you for breakfast today," gushed Petunia, "It's from that all meat diet book!"

Dudley let out a groan at the word "diet" until he remembered it meant things like steak while Harry got sandwiches.

"Bacon, sausage, and fried egg!" Petunia presented with a flourish. Harry and his friends were given cold cereal. Harry wondered how anyone could call _that_ diet food.

Dudley sat down, eyeing Harry, Ron and Hermione as if he expected them to hex him or something. Ron rolled his eyes. Hermione looked as though she felt sorry for Dudley. Harry merely smiled and said in a voice only Dudley could hear, "I know about that fight club."

Dudley, who had practiced the art of bullying on Harry (and numerous other souls with less weight than himself) stopped shoveling bacon in his mouth long enough to reply thru gritted teeth in the same volume, "Tell Mom about the fight club, and I'll mention the owls swooping past the window at 5am."

Hermione blushed a deep scarlet, whispering a quick 'sorry' to Harry. Hermione had wanted to retain her subscription to the Daily Prophet, a wizarding newsletter, and had made arrangements for her post to come a day later than therest of the wizarding world at 5am to avoid drawing attention to the Dursley household. Unlike Muggle post, wizards used owls to deliver their mail. The Dursleys have never forgotten when Harry's letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry came, as there were as many as three dozen owls intent on delivering. Uncle Vernon never stopped to think had he just let Harry have the first letter, there would've been no need for additional post owls.

Harry started to reply when there was a loud crack just outside the back door. Harry, Ron and Hermione recognized it as the sound of someone apperating, which is one way witches and wizards travel, appearing out of seemingly nowhere. Muggles usually mistake the sound as a car backfiring or fireworks.

Harry jumped up to see who was there. With a sigh of relief, he saw it was Remus Lupin. Remus, former professor at Hogwarts, taught Defense Against the Dark Arts in Harry's third year, and is also a member of The Order of the Phoenix. Lupin abandoned his teaching post once word spread about his being a werewolf, devoting more time to The Order as a spy against Lord Voldemort, the darkest wizard in existence.

Lupin looked like Uncle Vernon's worst nightmare: robes in tatters, matted hair, shaggy beard, and extremely tired eyes. He looked as if he spent months sleeping in the sewers. Hastily, Harry pulled the professor indoors; casting furtive glances around in case the muggle neighbors were around. Thankfully, there were no muggles visible.

"What's wrong,?" Harry asked anxiously.

"Harry, it's Voldemort," Lupin said quietly. Ron gave a shudder at the mention of the name; Hermione shot him a look. "Voldemort's convinced the werewolves - well, Greyback anyway. Where he goes, they follow."

Ron looked confused, "Didn't we know that already?"

"Yes, but it's worse," Lupin continued, "Greyback is forcing everyone to bite and try to infect people - wizard and muggle alike, whether the moon is full or not. Those loyal to Voldemort are trying to build their numbers, and any who refuse are reported."

Ron took a visible step back and asked, "But if you'll be reported to You-Know-Who, won't they be after you?"

"Of _course_ they're after him," said an exasperated Hermione, "Professor Lupin would never do such a horrid thing!"

“How long do you have before they find you?” Harry asked.

“Not long,” said Lupin honestly. “The Ministry’s been going thru owls, attempting to uncover plots by reading birthday cards and the like, and we’re not even sure who in the Ministry is loyal and who is a supporter anyway.”

“Professor,” Hermione began, “if the ministry’s intercepting owls…”

“They’re watching portkey and floo travel, too. Suspicious of everyone, they are. It’s too risky. Apparation is the safest way I can go, but even that can be tracked by a skilled enough wizard.”

Hermione bit her lip, deep in thought.

“So if someone can follow where you apperate to,” Ron started, “how do we know they won’t follow you here?”

“No one knows how to reach Harry. The protection given to him when his mother gave her life is more powerful than any dark magic used to track apperators. It makes Harry and all inside this house shielded against dark magic.” Lupin explained, “Which is why I need to ask you three a favor. I need a potions master to make my potion for a while. Send an owl to Tonks for me; it shouldn’t be in my writing in case the ministry can trace me. I worked a code out with her and she’ll know what to do when she gets the letter”

Hermione had the pen and parchment ready, as though she expected something like this all along and asked, “What do I write?”

“Moony loves you.”

Harry, smartly on top of things, fetched his owl, Hedwig, to deliver the letter to Tonks. As Hedwig departed, the shock of what was just discussed wore off just enough to make speech possible for Vernon Dursley.

“Werewolves?! You mean to say there’s ruddy werewolves running around London?!” Vernon’s voice increased in volume and panic-stricken pitch with each word. “And you’re a werewolf, are you?! In my kitchen? With orders to bite anyone you like, full moon or not?!”

“Mr. Dursley, I’m not here to bite _anyone_ ,” it was Lupin’s turn to be exasperated. “I’m only here for a moment more, and I shall never darken your doorstep again. Then again, it’s only a small time more before Harry himself will leave you to your normal Muggle lives. I suggest showing a little courtesy and patience for the remainder of that time. We don’t know how bad it’s going to get now that Voldemort’s back, but I can assure you it will be as bad as, if not worse, than it was the last time he was in power. Once Harry leaves here, the magical protection he carries with him will leave this house as well. I’m suggesting, of course, that you all make yourselves scarce until Harry contacts you again.”

“Where will we go?” blurted Petunia, “How bad is it going to be? Are there going to be dementors and giants as well? How far away is far enough?” She seemed near either tears or a nervous breakdown, Harry couldn’t tell which. He was busy wondering to himself if he even _would_ be able to contact his Aunt and Uncle after it was over. The prophecy echoed in his memory: _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches – Born to those who have thrice defied him, Born as the seventh month dies…And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies_

Harry wasn’t even sure he would be the one who survived “the big confrontation.” He wanted more than anything to be the one to kill Voldemort. After all, it was Voldemort’s fault he was an orphan. Voldemort was the reason Albus Dumbledore was dead, and his godfather, Sirius Black, and countless other innocent people. Harry’s train of thought was cut off when Lupin began saying his goodbyes.

“Take care, Harry,” Lupin said, “don’t let your guard down, and please be careful going to that Weasly wedding. There’s going to be at least four of the Order undercover at that wedding, not counting Molly and Arthur. I daresay they’ll be a bit distracted by the marriage of Bill to Fleur.” Lupin winked, stepped outside. With a loud crack, he disappeared.

CHAPTER 2

London’s muggle news was full of reports of missing persons, mysterious illnesses, and bridges and railways being blown up. Being Muggles, of a non-magic thought process, they assumed it was the work of “terrorists.” Marlea Goldstein read the words in the muggle news and snorted. If it were terrorists, they would have taken responsibility for it by now. She sat her coffee down and reached into her purse, fumbled around for a moment and drew out a small makeup mirror. Glancing around for a moment, she opened it up and gazed inside. It wasn’t a mirror, of course, but a compact version of a crystal ball. No one in the coffee house even looked up. She muttered something under her breath, and the mirror like surface swirled in colors of the sunsets, finally opening into an image as if someone blew the mist away. There was a man, with dark intentions, meeting in a large room with other witches and wizards, none of whom looked friendly. She felt their thoughts of hate and knew it was a glimpse of a meeting of the Death Eaters, Voldemort’s supporters. She gleaned they were talking about The Boy Who Lived, and their plans to eliminate him.

The mirror shut down, the picture blackened suddenly, and Marlea swore.

“Stupid looking glasses,” she thought, “smaller is _not_ better. Stupid seeing supply store junk!” She crammed the compact back into her purse and stormed off to the bathroom. Once in a stall, she disapperated from the coffee house headed for Number 12 Grimmauld Place, otherwise known as the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix.

The headquarters seemed deserted. It was invisible to muggles, and unless you were told where to find it, even the most talented wizards couldn’t either. With a toss of her curly red hair, she marched straight up to the door and knocked three times.

Minerva McGonagall answered the door, eying the redhead dressed like a muggle in a critical manor. “Come in,” she said curtly.

“Thanks Mrs. McGonagall.” Marlea took off her gold-rimmed sunglasses and put them in her purse. “I need to borrow a _real_ crystal ball, if you don’t mind. I’m sorry to barge in like this, but this stupid piece of crap broke on me in the middle of a vision.” She threw the broken compact in the dustbin.

Minerva made a noise between a “hmph” and a grunt. She never put stock in Seers and their visions, and was even more wary of the foreign ones. 

Marlea was world-renowned for her abilities, and it was only because Dumbledore recommended her long ago as a possible candidate for the open Divination spot 2 years ago. She was busy however, in the Salem Senate in America, working to prevent international magical attacks against wizard and muggle alike. She joined the Order as soon as she turned 17, which was only this past April. A prodigy in her wizarding school, Washington Witchcraft and Wizardry, she graduated a full two years before her peers. Marlea was aware of Minerva’s skepticism and never pushed for anyone to believe in Seeing. Marlea relied on results to back her up, and was more than capable of producing results.

Marlea followed Minerva to the kitchen and sat at the table while Minerva dug out the crystal ball. Minerva handed the crystal ball to Marlea and excused herself. She didn’t want to be a part of this Seeing nonsense.

Marlea closed her eyes, concentrating on the images she glimpsed in the compact, trying to reconnect. The crystal ball filled with the same smoky haze like the compact, and cleared up more quickly.

_“It must be done,” hissed Voldemort, “and it must be done soon.” ”Master, the boy is under protection still.”_

_“Did you think I did not remember that, Wormtail?” Voldemort sneered, flicked his wand at Wormtail and shouted “crucioCrucio!”_

_The cruciatious Cruciatious curse, or torture curse, did exactly that, and as Wormtail squirmed on the ground, screaming in pain, Voldemort seemed to smile._

_“Mind your manners, Wormtail,” Voldemort said quietly, as he lifted his wand, ending the curse, “or I’ll not be as lenient next time.”_

_“Master, if you see fit, I’m capable of tracking the boy after he leaves his place of protection.” It was Severus Snape who spoke this time. Professor Snape, as he was known during his time at Hogwarts, was the one responsible for killing Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster, at the end of the last school year._

_“Aah, Snape,” hissed Voldemort, “it was always my intention to allow you to serve me in this way.” Voldemort sneered, “at least, since the unfortunate demise of one trusting headmaster.” Snape chuckled darkly, “I am still surprised he finally allowed me near the Dark Arts job to be honest.”_

_“Everything is easier when Occlumency is used, Severus,” explained Voldemort. “I want you to take care not to be seen, but tail that Potter brat. I’m to be informed the very moment he leaves the protection of the muggle household.” Snape bowed deeply, “Yes, Master.”_

_“Oh, by the way, I owe you something, don’t I?” With a lazy flick of his wand, a silvery wisp snaked it’s way around Snape’s midsection, coiling tighter and tighter before disappearing entirely._

At this point, Marlea breaks the connection and with a flick of her pink wand, puts the crystal ball away.

“Mrs. McGonagall, I’m going now, is there anything I can do around here real quick?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, there is.” Minerva pulled back the curtain behind which sat a picture of Walburga Black, - Sirius Black’s Mother - who immediately began screaming insults. “It appears to be a permanent sticking charm holding her up. Would you care to give it a try?”

Marlea shot her a look, pulled her wand, aimed, and said, “ _Disadhereum._ ” The portrait slipped off the wall, landing at McGonagall’s feet. “My brother was a fan of that particular charm. He liked to stick my homework to my forehead. Thought it was funny. Took me _ages_ to find the counter jinks. See ya!”

Minerva McGonagall stood speechless with Walburga Black’s portrait still spewing insults from the floor, as Marlea disapperated.

It was pointless for Marlea to tell McGonagall what she saw in the crystal ball, and Marlea had to get back anyhow to pay her tab at the coffee house.


End file.
